Thursday, April 15, 2010

Letting Go

When I was pregnant with Daughter (aka Teen) I worried like most new moms-to-be do. Did she kick today? Is she growing okay? Is she healthy? I distinctly remember a co-worker saying, "and after she's born, you'll just keep worrying."

I have this big crease down the center of my forehead as proof that I have indeed continued to worry. Just the other day Daughter asked if she could attend an all-day rap festival. This sent shivers down my spine. A rap festival? You mean like gansta' rap? Apparently not. This is an "indie" rap festival. That's supposed to make me feel better. I went on line and searched for anything I could learn. When I saw a video from last year's festival showing a performer rapping about walking around Minneapolis lakes, I decided to take the chance and let her go.

She's going to a marine biology camp this summer. She'll be snorkeling and diving in the ocean. With sharks. And possibly other things with sharp teeth. I don't swim, but we made sure she did so she could do just these kinds of things I never could. But I'd feel better if her father was swimming alongside. When she asked, I was ready to say no, but Hubby intervened so we're letting her go to that too. He'd like to have a diving partner someday I think.

Letting her go. Don't you just hate those words?

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